Thump
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: In the midst of the war, Malfoy Manor is being used to house prisoners and this includes the Golden Trio. Draco is bored and has had enough Merlot to be bold. He decides he must find Granger and when he does locate her, he unleashes his ugliest side in order to satiate a deeper thirst. [Warning. Rated M. Read the author's note.]


_Warning:__ Rated Mature _for upsetting nonconsensual sexual content. In short, Hermione is held prisoner and Draco Malfoy rapes her- but it is certainly not PWP nor is it meant to romanticize rape or produce warmfuzzies over Dramione feels. It is in the POV of Draco, but he is a decidedly dark Draco and this fic is not meant as a romantic romp or a testament of Draco Malfoy's strengths and good qualities. Rated M. You've been warned.

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_thump_

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Draco Malfoy gripped the wall as he walked through the manor, his previous sense of dread as absent as his sobriety. The wine was Mother's idea, no doubt fueled by her worry that her poor innocent son had already seen too much. Malfoy did not refuse the drinks but aside from witnessing a few anonymous people being ripped to shreds by Greyback, the torturing at Malfoy Manor really did not do much to rattle him. He had a strong curiosity for what was vague, gruesome and hidden from children. His lack of acknowledgement of serious emotions had developed into an uncaring, cold outlook on life; in fact, Malfoy was able to re-invent events and talk himself out of feeling remorse. But the dread was still present like a dull buzzing sound in the manor. It was in his father's eyes and in the smell of the house. It seeped through the walls. Invisible ectoplasm. It was in the shrieks of the prisoners in the basement. It was in the set jaw and sobs of Granger. But he was drunk now and it was all a joke like everything else. The manor was like Borgin and Burkes: a maze of hideous prizes and gorey gifts, dismembered and dark. Curses, creatures in cages, black creased curtains over corpses- their heads on display. Those were some of the things Draco Malfoy loved.

'_Wonder if she still has her eyes,' _Malfoy thought blearily, kicking aside a shoe that no longer had an owner, _'or would Aunt Bellatrix have done away with those as punishment? How badly scarred is she? Bet she's ghastly. More ghastly than usual, that is.' _How he'd settled on Granger as the object of his fun he'd never quite know. All that was clear was he was marching onward with a purpose. He needed to locate the Mudblood and asess his family's damage to her physique. Granger was hardly what he'd deem pretty anyway. She'd vastly improved since her teeth had been fixed and her hips had filled out, but she wasn't Malfoy's taste at all. He liked girls straight-backed, conventionally attractive and socially sound, not mousy and peculiar and bookish. Still, she'd always been rather an oddity to him. He spent careful time studying her obnoxious habits and more than he'd like to admit, he'd heard her bossy tone as he came hot white ribbons alone in his bed, staining his designer sheets that were undoubtedly worth more than Mudblood Granger herself.

And how much time had passed? Not even three hours, he assumed, as Mother and Father had swung their arms around him and led him off to the music room for an indeterminate amount of time. It was all "Darling" and "Poor Draco" these days. Their dissolving venom was growing tiresome. Draco longed for when his Father alternately made him proud and made him quake. Now Lucius was a tired shell and Narcissa was picking up the pieces with raw fingers as though their family were a vase that had been carelessly booted off an end table.

He shook away the unpleasant thoughts and focused on the game he was in the process of inventing: Where-Oh-Where-Could-That-Mudblood-Be. Last he'd seen her she was sprawled out on the floor of the main sitting room, getting her dirty blood stains on the Persian rug that had been passed down for several generations. A quick walk-through told Draco that she had been moved somewhere less obvious- _until _he noticed the drippy brownred stains that got smaller and smaller as they disappeared down the left wing hallway.

"Ah _ha,_" he said aloud in a sing-song voice and merrily followed the path of dirty blood drippings several paces until he was standing in front of a closed door. He knew this room better than any in the manor, aside from his own room. The library. _'How perfect for the Mudblood. Either Aunt Bellatrix is less of a lunatic and more of a psychic or she's just lucky.' _The last circle of brownred sat in front of the gap in the bottom of the door like a dull red light and instantly, he kicked the door open. He wasn't certain what he was expecting. He'd half wondered if Bellatrix would be keeping watch but no, he could see the Mudblood slumped on the floor next to his father's emerald-green chaise lounge. Disappointingly, she hardly budged at the sound of the door.

She was knelt on the floor with her back to him, her unruly hair more disheveled than Malfoy had seen in some time. She did not move. He wondered, annoyed, if she was already dead. "Granger," he said loudly. "Granger, can you hear me? Speak or I'll curse you."

There was thick silence. Malfoy clucked his tongue, disappointed. He strode toward Granger, the thick soles of his black boots thump-thumping on the hardwood floor. He wanted to inspect her more carefully. After all, he hadn't laid eyes on the dead body of someone he'd known so well. Only acquaintences. As soon as he was within a meter of her listless body, Granger spoke in a clear but stunted voice: "I could hear you when you were halfway across the house, Malfoy. What do you want?"

He paused, the unexpected voice sending a thrill through him. "What do I _want? _Granger, you've been beaten and contained and you're still as irritating as ever," he replied in a snap, but a thick smirk curled on his face. "Sit up, Granger. Turn around. Look at me. I want to see how badly she got you."

Granger did not turn around. She merely tugged her right arm hard, eliciting a thunk from the chaise. Delightedly, Malfoy recognized that clever Aunt Bellatrix had tied Granger's wrist to the leg of the chaise. "Not that I'd listen to any order you gave me anyway," Granger said sullenly in that quiet, stilted tone.

She wasn't scared. She spoke like she was spitting out poison but she _was not scared. _Malfoy didn't want to show his rage at this and so he thumped around her drooped form and dropped down hard onto the end of the lounge. She did not even budge. Infuriation seared through him like a raging storm. "Look at me, Granger," he repeated in a terse voice. His head was spinning slightly and his cheeks were warm. He pulled on his high collar and gazed down upon Granger's slumped head through a narrowed, unfocused gaze. Had it been three or four goblets of Merlot?

She made a disapproving scoffing sound and his face burned. "I said, LOOK_," _he suddenly shouted and took a fistful of her messy curls in his fist, roughly tugging her head up. She finally reacted to him with a small, low cry and shut her eyes as he surveyed her face. Dried blood flaked around her nose and lips, and a long, thin cut twisted from her round chin to her left ear. He sneered again. "Just as ugly as usual, but a _cut _above what I expected," he said with a short laugh.

"Clever, Malfoy," she got out bitterly but winced as he tugged her up further by the hair. There was blood trailing her neck, too. Her eyes flickered open.

"I thought so," he muttered, and they stared at each other, his silver eyes boring into her dark brown ones. "Don't sound so surprised." He let go of her hair but she held her head up, facing him. A spark of intrigue shot through his body as he continued to hold eye contact.

"How are you so proud of yourself? You aren't much of anything, Malfoy." Granger spoke steadily though it seemed part of her lip had been cut by Bellatrix's knife. Still, he marveled at her forwardness while his stomach turned with rotten humiliation. "You've done no good."

He exhaled sharply and tried to control his tone but when he spoke he sounded angry and childish: "What makes you so bold, Mudblood? You're in _my _house. You could be dead _any second _at my command. Not to mention, I could curse you. You think I'm not much? I bet I know far more dark spells than you and your ridiculous lot of friends put together—"

"If I could be dead any second, why stand down to you? You mean nothing to me," she whispered and with a moment of clarity he realized this is what it must mean to be a blind, stupid Gryffindor. "Why are you here, anyway? Did your wonderful aunt send you?"

He spat out a chortle and forced himself to roll his eyes. "Send me? No. I came on my own, Granger. I came to see you." He made sure to make it sound innocent. Genial, even.

"Why?" she asked firmly, but when he locked eyes with her again she shut hers tight. '_Good. She's getting uncomfortable,' _he thought pleasantly and propped himself on the nearest pillow, swinging both legs onto the lounge by passing them over Granger's head. Both boot tips grazed her mass of curly hair and she winced. He crossed his legs and examined his pocket watch. _'Midnight.' _

"Because. I'm bored," he drawled loudly. "I could go rummage around for fun in the cellar but I have absolutely no desire to see Weasley. Besides, Potter's down there, too and he's so revolting I wouldn't be able to look directly at him."

"So they're alive?" she whispered in a breathy tone he liked a lot.

Malfoy smiled, heart thumping. "Perhaps. Last I checked. Would you like me to check again and report to you on how they're fairing?"

She very slowly opened her eyes again. "You're not serious," she said loudly but suddenly, he had something she wanted. "I'm not an idiot! Why would you even do that for me? And how would I know you weren't lying?" Suddenly, she let out a quiet sob.

"Oh, Granger, don't be sad," he mocked. "I'd love to go check on them later, if I'm still looking for amusement. But for now I'm here and so are you." With each word that left his mouth, he was realizing he rather did have an idea about what he'd enjoy doing. It may have been the wine that made him daring, or perhaps it was the sheer need for excitement. "Make a deal with me and I'll go check on them."

"What sort of deal?" she said, and he was happy to hear the waver in her high voice.

Draco leaned up again and scooted down the lounge so that he was directly in front of her and then he firmly planted both boots on the floor so that his spread legs grazed her front and back. His right boot touched her knees, his left boot her behind. When he leaned forward, his mouth was level with her ear. "Have you ever been kissed, Mudblood?" was what he asked, his lips skimming her hair.

"Yes, have you?" she said indignantly. "Honestly, of all the juvenile—"

"Shut up," he said crossly, "I asked you a question and you answered. That's all I need from you. _Surprising_ answer, it was," he went on, trying to relax though his chest was still pounding. "Who kissed the little Mudblood?" he inquired, his left boot nudging her buttocks lazily.

"Malfoy. What—"

"_Who kissed the little Mudblood?_ It's not a difficult question, Granger—"

"No one!" she sputtered. "I'm not making a deal with you! You're not going to tell the truth anyway—"

"No deal and I _will_ make a cellar visit. On my own terms," he said coolly, "to practice my Unforgivables."

"You have no idea how to do such advanced magic," she said, but proudly, he detected uncertainty in her voice.

He pulled his wand out of his pocket and used it to carelessly tousle her hair. "Want to be a target, Granger?" he mumbled quietly. "I'm getting quite good at using _Imperio_—"

"Viktor Krum," she said in a whisper. "Cormac McLaggen."

Malfoy could not contain a snort, though his face went hot. "Fantastic," he drawled. "Two empty-headed blood traitorous gorillas. Figures they'd adore kissing the Mudblood. And did you like it?"

She sighed, shutting her eyes again as he continued to run his wand through her hair.

"Did. You. Like. It?" he asked loudly.

"It was fine," she whimpered, "now what's this deal, Malfoy? Asking me for the details of my love life? What are you playing at here?"

"Fine? Just fine?" he howled delightedly. "Sounds smashing! Sounds like the greatest fun I've never had! Who was _finer, _Granger? The surly Bulgarian Quidditch bastard or the prickish Gryffindor oaf?" She was silent until he pointed his wand in between her eyes.

"Why do you care?" she said in a quiet voice but kept staring him down in a way that unsettled him so much he shoved his wand back in his pocket with one hand while grabbing her face hard with the other. "Malfoy—" she managed to get out in a muffled cry just before he pressed his firm, greedy mouth against hers and tasted the dried blood on her cracked lips. She pursed her lips together, a low moan of protest warbling from within her mouth, but as he kissed her harder and bit her bottom lip she gave up making noise as if she knew there was no point at all to it. He sighed raggedly into her lips and twisted his hands through her hair. It was softer than he'd ever imagined despite how mussed up it was. He was beginning to enjoy this. He stuck his tongue through her lips, forcing it in solidly, and she bit it as hard as she could.

Malfoy yowled like an angry tomcat and wrenched off her, holding his mouth. "Fuck you, Mudblood! _That. Hurt."_

"You reek of liquor!" was her instant, impetuous response.

"I can't tell if that's my blood or your blood. You nasty little bitch," he snapped and then spat the bad taste, the dirty blood taste, into her hair.

Granger gasped as though this were too much for her to believe and leaned as far away from him as she could. "You're worse than I _ever _thought! Get out of here!" And then, he noticed her try a different approach: "What would your parents do if they saw you kissing me?"

"Leave them out of it," Malfoy snarled, though she raised a good point. But they were in bed, likely sleeping dreamless sleep like he did lately, and nobody had to know. Nobody _would _know. "Good idea, Granger," he chided.

"What's a—" she started to say, before Malfoy flicked a quick charm at the door.

"And now, no one will hear us. If they find me in here, I'll say you tried to escape and then the werewolf can have you for all I care. But for now, you're mine," he said in a grand drawl.

"I'm not yours, sod off. You're drunk, Malfoy—go to bed," she said, and he gripped her by the hair again.

"You bossy little bint," he said with a sneer. "I like when you argue. Always have. Always will."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," she replied with a weak grimace. "What are you _really_ doing in here? Fancy me or something?" The last sentence was biting.

Malfoy subconsciously moved back a bit and raised his eyebrows, thinking. How was she still so fearless? Just like at school. So utterly unresponsive to his words and now, his touch? He'd missed their back-and-forth this year, missed her smart arsed remarks and brainy ramblings. Did he fancy her? His face burned. _'No, but…' _He wanted her.

The kiss had been interesting, had made him feel bold and new. Bad. His heart pulsed. His tongue still throbbed a bit and he couldn't trust her not to try something stupid again. However, he could curse her if she went too far. _'Decisions, decisions.' _The dismal truth was, he'd only had a few snogs before now (three, to be exact) though he'd never admit it to her or anyone.

Draco had snogged Pansy after the Yule Ball at age thirteen. He'd been adventurous and fun-loving that night but it had more to do with the fact that Daphne and Millicent had, giggling, shoved him and Pansy in a supply closet on the walk from the dance toward the common room. He'd been nervously debating whether to kiss her all night but in the closet it was dark and Pansy made his decision for him. _"Draco, do you fancy me?" _she'd cooed before flinging her arms around his neck and sampling his cool lips. He'd shuddered, growing hard almost at once. Embarrassed, he'd pushed her aside. She grabbed his shoulder, giggled, _"Are you nervous?"_ He'd bitterly spat out an insult and rushed out of the closet and ignored her for several weeks. Pansy wrote him notes every day in class, apologizing, and wrung her hands, and cried until she grew tired of his silence.

In fifth year, he plucked up the courage to ask her out. He'd felt ready that time. He escorted her to Hogsmeade and listened to her incessant chattering over tea, chocolate sundaes and whilst visiting six shops. Finally, he wanted her to shut up and made up his mind. He'd snogged her outside of the Quidditch supply store. He meant it to be graceful but his hands had been clammy and when Pansy slipped her tongue into his mouth he thought he'd be sick. _"See you later," _he'd muttered, and had left her there suspended in the spring breeze. He ignored her for the rest of the week and broke up with her in a slapdash note he had Goyle deliver in Charms.

For an entire year he ran the events through his mind over and over again. What kind of bloke refused a willing girl who wanted off with him? '_What kind of bloke refused a willing girl who wanted off with him, twice?'_

During sixth year, he was too caught up in his task and not failing out of school to care about snogging or dating. He hardly noticed when Pansy stopped staring at him longingly and began holding hands with Theodore. The only thing that worried him was his own reluctance to touch her, or any girl for that matter. Where was his swaggering, his confidence, his attitude when it came to women? Hadn't he been dubbed a lady-killer? Didn't the girls fawn over his sly remarks and clean clothes and styled hair? Why couldn't he live up to his title?

This year, this year, he'd tried again. After hundreds of hours of analysis, Draco assumed he and Pansy might have been too alike, that he'd been sickened by her self-confidence and cruelty because it was almost like looking in a mirror. Astoria Greengrass was two years his junior and she was striking and soft-spoken, not loud and vivacious like Pansy. Draco decided he liked Astoria's personality and calm voice and her dark, long perfectly tended ringlets. He asked her if she'd like to walk around the lake and she'd said yes. For nearly twenty minutes, they'd said nothing. When he began to talk, she listened to him, made keen comments and laughed in all of the right places. An hour later, they'd walked around the lake twice and he slipped his hand through hers. He loved when this made her blush as though he'd finally done something right, something astute.

The second time they met up, he helped her with her Potions homework and she looked at him like he was a hero.

The third time was a date, a real date. He'd taken her to dinner in Diagon Alley during winter holiday and paid for them both with his Christmas allowance. She'd worn dark green robes and pulled her hair back. She was quiet and giddy, smiling at him throughout the dinner as he prattled on about his doings over break (leaving out the bits about the manor being used as a torture chamber- that was not nice conversation). Pink-faced and smiling she'd hugged him goodbye and he was entranced by her petite frame and soft touch. Outside the restaurant in the falling snow, he'd kissed her goodnight properly and he finally felt like he'd achieved normalcy in the eyes of the world. He had a proper, dignified Pureblood girlfriend who fawned over him as though he were the only thing that mattered to her and he absolutely adored himself for it.

But that was three months ago. Certainly, they'd been spending time together (great ruddy _chunks _of time) but Astoria had soon made it clear that she was not in this relationship to be snogged or fondled. As she put it in her quiet and formal way, _"I am very fond of you, Draco Malfoy, and I do not want to ruin this. I want it to be special." _And Malfoy listened. After all, this seemed right and picturesque. He didn't want to soil it now. Astoria had fixed him, made him feel saner, and he wasn't going to muck it up just because he longed to snake his tongue through her lips. He was beginning to think he loved Astoria. Not juvenile love. Not cinnamon volcano candy love, not winter air love, not curses or new books or soft velvet cloak love. The kind of love that was like his own Mother's and Father's: clean, doting devotion.

The want for her was genuinely getting to be too much. He'd started wanking more frequently and noticing girls as though he had some disease. He looked eagerly at naked portraits in his father's classic art books. He woke up in a hot sweat after furious sexual nightmares. He found himself jealous of couples whose mouths intertwined, when the only body parts of his that could be wrapped around Astoria were his long fingers and those only danced in her hair, tread carefully on her waist, held her hand. As much as he loved her, he was beginning to loathe the lack of friction, the absence of a warm cunt.

And now, when he hadn't been plotting or planning or worrying, he'd had his fourth kiss. Could he put Granger to other use?

"No, I don't fancy you. I hate you more than most people," he replied finally. "But I'm very, _very_ bored." The last sentence was spoken in an unintentionally babyish whine and the Mudblood gave him a sour look, much like she did when he interrupted her in class.

"You'll go to the cellar? You'll see what's happened to—" she shuddered and started again. "You'll see how Harry and Ron are?"

For a moment, he wasn't sure what she was blabbering about but then he nodded, licking his lips. He tasted Merlot and blood. "Yes," he said at once. "I promise."

"Then what?" she asserted. "Go on. More questions?"

"Will you kiss me again, Granger?" was what fell out of his mouth. He even surprised himself. It wasn't made up of confidence or command. He sounded petulant and needful. He'd set himself up for a no, and when she stared hard into his eyes and did nothing his ears burned. "Kiss me," he said, proud that he sounded surer of himself this time.

"You promise?" she asked softly, not meeting his eyes now.

"Of course," he said so strongly he almost convinced himself. His heart fluttered when she leaned toward him slowly and screwed her eyes shut, her lips barely open. Malfoy took her forcibly by the chin and seized her lips. She did not return the kiss but she also did not struggle. It was almost like they were together and enough like she wanted him that he was compelled to continue. He kissed her top and bottom lip together, he switched off and tugged at her bottom one with his teeth. He listened to her breathing change from gasps to frightened pants but he heard it like it was passion. _'See the little Mudblood liking me kissing her,' _he though cockily and then paused. He tugged on her hair. "You're not going to bite me again, are you?"

She opened her eyes and then closed them again. She shook her head. "Good, Granger. Good," he said approvingly and moving his left hand to her blouse, he pried open her lips again with his tongue and met her own. He grunted a noise of approval into her mouth as he tentatively grasped her round, soft breast. Granger squeaked into his lips, shook her head. "Oh, _damn it, _Granger," he moaned deeply, both hands at work on her breasts now. She took several hurried breaths. "You're _dirty. _See what you made me do?" He tugged her limp hand up and placed it on his solid crotch, firm and obvious through his trousers.

"Malfoy, please, stop—" she mumbled, the hand on his hard bulge shaking in nervousness before she pulled it away. "I'll do anything else—but I don't want—I don't want this—"

"You _do, _though," he said, shaking his head, blond bangs bouncing as he moved his head into the crook of her neck. She shivered when he dragged his tongue from her ear to her collarbone. "See? You do._" _

"You're not right, Malfoy," Granger said solidly, shaking her head from side to side. She quivered as he nibbled her ear. "Draco," she said suddenly as though struck by some genius thought, "Draco, it's me, it's _me, _your classmate—your—it's Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger, Draco! Draco, you're not well! You're drunk, you're likely stressed, you're not yourself—" But even she didn't seem sure of her words and that was rare.

"You can help me," he replied in a positive tone and tore her blouse from her chest, popping gold buttons off that bounced along the floor. Now her cleavage inside her bra and her stomach were exposed. "Damn it, Mudblood—nice. Very fit."

Granger whimpered. "Think of your mother—would she want you doing this?" She moaned lightly when he struggled with her bra, threw it off, and suckled her nipples one after the other. "Draco, Draco—think of your mother—"

"No," he snarled. "Stop blabbering. Particularly about my mother! You're making me lose concentration. I want to enjoy it." With both hands he hesitantly massaged her nipples and then leaned in to kiss her at the same time. The sensations just kept getting better and by this time, he was poking through his boxers and his member was rubbing uncomfortably against the front of his trousers. He groaned, then grasped her by the hair and pet her softly like a good dog while he unzipped them. The freedom from fabric felt amazing and the intimacy of disrobing in front of a girl was utterly erotic, forbidden. She shuddered and watched, as though Petrified, as he slowly stroked himself. "Granger, I want you to suck me off—"

She shook her head slowly from side to side but did not say a word. Her silence suited him just fine. He hopped off the chaise and pulled his trousers and boxers down so that they hung around his legs. Standing in front of her bowed head, he felt completely in power and power was a wonderful thing.

"Look up at me, Mudblood. Take me in your mouth."

"Draco, think about this—"

"I've thought about it and I want it," he smirked and gripped her by the hair, pulling her up to meet his length. He butted it against her closed mouth. "Come _on_, Mudblood. I'm so turned-on it's awful—" When her mouth didn't budge, he kicked her sharply in the side. She cried out but turned away. "Suck me off _now_, you stupid little Mudblood!" he shouted, wetness rolling into the corners of his eyes. Closing them briefly, he kicked at her again. _If she didn't do it, he'd get it—he'd get it from her some way, some how, just wait—_

And then, bliss. His silver eyes flashed open. Wetness enveloped his veiny, pulsing cock as the little bitch took him into her mouth with a delicate proficiency. She didn't use tongue enough so Malfoy jutted his hips forward and filled her jaws. She burst out coughing as he slammed her again, harder. "Shit, Granger, you really _are _dirty. Who've you blown before? You know how to take a cock."

Granger choked, and he could see her eyes darkening behind her long, brown bangs. "No one," she said in a low tone. She seemed in danger of bursting into tears and that just wouldn't do.

"So I suppose you've read about this sort of thing? Studied up? Done your homework?" he joked and then moaned in a high tone when he got an especially great sensation from her tongue against the tip of his member. She made a noise of protest and pulled her head back, staring in disgust at him. A very small amount of pearly preseminal liquid dribbled out of the tip and Draco sighed, tipping his head back. His bangs were sweaty and tousled and his adam's apple was bobbing up and down. "Merlin, that feels good. But you're right. Not good enough. I've got to have you and I've got to do it right now."

"No," she said, shaking her head, panic rising in her voice.

He ignored her. "But first, lick it off. I want to see you taste it—"

Her face was still twisted in revolt. "No, I don't—"

"You can choose to do it or I'll use the Imperius curse," he said, his voice rising as he flicked out his wand again. "Then you'll do whatever I say and you won't know what you've agreed to until you wake up burned raw tomorrow morning—if you ever wake up—"

"If you're going to kill me, why hesitate?" she got out, her voice shaking badly but she reluctantly ran her tongue around the tip of his cock when he stuck his hips in front of her face. She made a pained face that he very much tried not to think about and as soon as he was clean, she pulled back and spat onto the floor.

"Oh, _I'm_ not going to kill you, Mudblood. That's not what I want to do," he shrugged and took his member in his hand again, rubbing it vigorously while watching her. "I want to shag you right now, are you ready for me, Granger?"

She wrung her hands, muttering something under her breath, something between a counter-curse and a prayer. He kicked off his boots, one at a time, and shed his trousers and boxers onto the charcoal rug. "Isn't this going against everything you're fighting for?" she asked suddenly. "What would the Dark Lord think?"

"The _Dark_ Lord? You think he'd care if he knew I had some fun with a Muggle-born prisoner? You think he'd sit me down and give me a lecture?" Malfoy shot at her, getting on his hands and knees and staring her right in the face. She whimpered. "That's right, Granger. Don't know much about him at all, do you? Don't talk about what you don't know. Thought Snape taught you as much. Now, let's get you ready for this." He plunged his hand down the front of her jeans and shoved his fingers against her privates. He'd planned in his mind prior during the million times he'd imagined his first sex. He decided that he'd play it off casually, like he'd done it loads of times before. He figured it would be easy to act cool, easy to look self-assured and in control.

But when he felt her skin (soft and cool) and the way her privates felt on his long fingers (decent amount of pubic hair, warm lips, slightly wet core) his heartbeat sped up and he was undeniably eager. Giddy, even. A languid smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. He'd imagined this so many times but he'd never though it could feel so different from everything he loved. Granger made an "eep" of protest but nothing more as he dug further into her skin, pressing his hand in between the slit of her opening, wondering where everything was located and how he could get in, all the way in. His tongue curled out of his mouth as he finally decided he'd better wrench her jeans all the way open. She was wearing small, white pants that were cut high over her thighs. "My, Granger—you are so nasty. Those pants are begging me to rip them off," he commented quietly, pushing his fingers into her through her knickers this time. He shuddered out the next order: "Lie down."

"Malfoy—" she gasped as he took her by the throat and shoved her back onto the floor. He tugged her jeans down around her ankles and admired her silky legs, her thighs. Her arm was suspended in mid-air, hanging off the chain on the chaise's leg. _Oh-Where-Oh-Where-Could-the-Mudblood-Hide? Nowhere to go, nowhere to go_. "Malfoy, stop it—"

He was breathing hard now, his legs quaking with anticipation. "Are you ready for me, Granger? Say you want me."

"I'd never say that," she whispered. Despicable, brazen and obnoxious 'til the very end. He sneered and stared at her, boring a hole in her. He imagined a dutiful smile. He imagined Astoria's soft spoken voice, _"I want you, Draco Malfoy." _

"Yes," he said aloud, "I want you, too, Mudblood." Next, he tugged her pants off and tossed them onto the carpet after smelling them with a hungry grunt. She winced, turning away from him, but he grasped her face in his hand and turned her back.

"I want you to look at me when I'm inside you. I want you to remember how I look forever," he instructed excitedly. With that, he parted her lips with his other hand and struggled to put in his hard cock. This was more difficult than in his fantasies. Her eyes fluttered open, watching him as he fought to push through her hole. There was more going on down there than he'd realized. He muttered a few curse words darkly, his ears going pink but then finally, _finally, _his dick slid in through her miniscule opening and she shrieked. He gave a long, shuddering sigh as her warm muscle wrapped around his penis like a hot suction cup. He used both hands to grip the carpet and align himself inside her. His arms twitched and shook and sweat glistened on his forehead. "You're so tight," he got out in a quavering tone. "I'm going to fill you right up."

She had since shut her eyes again and was shaking her head, a string of jumbled words coming out of her mouth. He wasn't paying too much attention but it sounded like she was reciting trivia, jabbering on about information, giving old homework answers in a small whisper.

He thrust into her and heaved another sigh. He could feel himself on her back wall and it was magnificent. He moaned as he slammed it into her harder, gripping the floor and resting his forehead on hers. Granger stopped muttering and let out a long cry. Something had burst inside her and Malfoy could feel a wetness surrounding his shaft. Curiously, he slowly pulled out and was disturbed to see a bit of red liquid seeping out of her, covering the length of his shaft. When he spoke, his voice was contemptuous:

"Thought it would be funny, did you, Granger? Didn't think you ought to tell me you were on your fucking _period? _Wanted me to get my dick all soiled with your foul blood?"

"No!" she shouted. "I'm not on my period! I'm not!"

"Then what's all this?" he yelled back at her, and slammed her free hand down in his own, rubbing her arm into the rug. "What's all this nasty arse blood?" He bit her on the neck, hard.

She burst into tears right then. "It's because I'm a _virgin_, Malfoy!" she sobbed.

"You _are?" _he asked in a surprised tone (after all, he had no idea what tied blood and the fact she was a virgin together) but wanting to appear collected, he recovered. "Not that I doubt _that _a bit. Who'd want the bookworm Mudblood? Who'd want to shag that? You're lucky I'm doing you the honor, Granger." He released her hand from his grip and wiped the tears out of her eyes. "Don't do that, Granger—don't cry. Can I tell you a secret?"

She continued sobbing and did not answer.

"You're not going to believe this, but that's me, too," he said softly. "Until now. See, Granger? I'm helping you. You're helping me. So, you've got to enjoy it." With that said, he entered her again and was far more confident this time. It only took two tries to get the right hole and when he was back inside her he found that the blood that was pulsing out of her helped to lubricate him. It was a bit revolting in retrospect, but he could clean up later. She'd set her jaw again and was staring up at him, emotionless, biting her lip. "Come on, Granger. _Enjoy," _he said, and at the end of the first thrust, he bent down to lock lips with her.

He felt her tits on his chest, the rubbing of his member within her, the warm wet dampness inside her and he grunted in enthusiastic pleasure. He continued kissing her and held her hair tenderly, working himself into her quicker. Finally, he got a good in-out rhythm that made his breath burst out in tired pants. He'd be ready now, for later life. He'd be prepared and well-versed in shagging.

His blond bangs flopped over his eyes. He ran his mouth over her ear and breathed there, thrusting in a quick, rigid way that suggested supreme freshness at the sport of fucking. It was careless and unpolished and abrasive. Granger moaned in a high-pitched tone and he laughed in her ear. "See?" he said, "I'm good, I'm good—I'm—oh, _yes_…"

Granger gasped enormously and struggled to sit up as he pulled out of her and stumbled to his feet, his hand on his hardness. But he kicked her back down. Her body made a hard thump on the wooden floor. "I'm going to cover you in it, _shower _you in it," he smirked and after only two more tugs, he let go right over her face.

He sang out a coarse, deep moan and his shoulders heaved forward. Semen leaked out like acid rain. Some dripped down and stuck in his flaxen-brown pubes but most of it dropped like beads of dew on her forehead, cheeks and nose. "Open wide, Granger," he said crassly with a sardonic laugh usually reserved for classmates he'd insulted. And then after a long breath, "For fuck's sake, Granger, that was a lot of fun."

She pressed her legs together and watched him with a new horror he'd never seen in her eyes as he cleaned up with a spell and pulled his clothes on again. She watched him as he shoved his wand in his back pocket and cracked his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her carefully wipe the remnants of him off her face. Her eyes grew wider when he collapsed back at her side and put a lazy arm around her neck.

"I'm spent," he said, and squeezed her shoulder in a friendly way. "I'd help you put your clothes back on but I quite like you this way. Nice tits. Nice cunt. If you're still locked up here tomorrow I want to take you from the back next," he chortled. Exhaustion set in and he felt the darkness seeping into his vision. "Just for a second," he mumbled sleepily and kissed the crook of her neck.

The next thing he knew he was awake and in a searing amount of pain. Screams and the loud cracks of spells rang out from another room. _Where was he? He had to go, had to go… _Draco sat up to rub his right hand through his hair but he couldn't move it. A chain jangled. "What the blazes?" he muttered, realizing _he'd_ been attached to the chaise.

"You are undoubtedly one of the most wicked, horrific bastards I've ever met but luckily you're also the stupidest," came a familiar voice above him. He decided he wasn't going to like what he saw but raised his aching head anyway. The Mudblood was standing there, dressed but still looking in tatters with mussed up hair and a blouse that was pulled to shreds. He would have laughed at her if she didn't have his thick-soled boot in one hand and his wand in the other.

"Granger," he got out in a sputter, a poor imitation of a cool sneer playing on his face, "Guess I outwore my welcome."

"I should kill you," she said, and he was about to protest, to whine, to cry out, about to tell her she wouldn't dare, _wouldn't dare-wouldn't dare!, _about to beg for mercy, when she continued with: "But I couldn't."

"Big surprise," he said with a laugh. The wheels in his head creaked. "Now free me. I'll show you out of here if you free me. We can get your friends out on the way-"

"Oh, and what do I get in return? Another lousy, pathetic shag from the biggest loser I've seen in my life?" she shouted, and threw the boot full-force at his face.

It collided with his nose and he cursed loudly, punched the floor with his free limb. Blood seeped out and he snorted, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "The Mudblood has good aim," he managed to get out. His hangover was making him utterly useless. He was seeing white dots dancing and his forehead felt as though it had been slapped with a broomstick. He recounted the night and his stomach lurched at the thought of the black-red wine in large amounts. He'd never be able to drink Merlot again. His entire body was sore. "Bollucks, I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered to himself as blood slunk into his mouth. His stomach lurched again at the taste. Then louder: "GRANGER, UNTIE ME! I'M GOING TO VOMIT!"

She was smiling an unrepentant grin, her hand slightly shaking, making his wand waver up and down. "Some people will say I should kill you. I'm sure they'll ask why I didn't curse you. But I know just what to do, Malfoy. Because I'm a _Mudblood. _I know something that should have been done to you ages ago."

"Didn't you _hear _me, Granger? Get me the fuck out of here!" he bleated and groaned. Her babbling tone meant nothing to him. All he heard was white noise.

Wordlessly, she stepped slowly so that she stood solidly in the gap between his spread open legs. His head was spinning as he watched her and it wasn't until her leg flexed and her foot was poised above his waist that he screamed in protest and started to coil. In one motion, one loud _thump_, Granger brought her foot down on his groin with all of her might.

Malfoy's ear-piercing scream echoed off the library walls and if that weren't enough, she ground her foot in as if she was crushing a tiresome spider. Tears welled up in his eyes and pulled through and at first he thought he'd bitten through his tongue, though it was only the blood from his nose that he tasted. "You Mudblood bitch!" he shrieked. "You piece of shit!"

She calmly raised up her foot and _she did it again. _Malfoy stopped cursing her and broke into whining sobs, beating his free fist onto the carpet and mewling. It was a hot, grotesque burn that made his legs go weak and his stomach convulse. It was too painful to even _be _pain. His cries were deep and long. Tears flowed down his face and mixed with the blood. Everything inside him tore up, and his head felt like it was split open. He doubled over and was instantly sick all over his front.

Granger glowered at him with fire in her eyes and when they shared a last gaze, he felt miniature in the shadow of her ire. With that, she left, her hair flying out behind her as she went. She tossed his wand in the doorway and disappeared.

He continued screaming and pounding the floor. When his father found him minutes later and asked harshly who'd done this, who'd done this to his poor son, all Draco could say was he did not know. "I didn't see them, Father!" he kept repeating until his voice was raw and the sobbing had burnt through his throat. Mother cleaned him up and got him new clothing and reported that all of the prisoners had escaped by some chance. _"Apparently, one of them managed to get a wand and freed the others." _Draco went all wide-eyed and feigned surprise. He was given tea and toast and told to rest, and Mother lingered on the edge of his bed and caressed his hair until he fell asleep. Dreamless sleep had never felt better.

But when he awoke, he just couldn't shake the image of Hermione Granger, her eyes slicing through him like a dull blade. Had she really thought him a lousy shag? Sitting up was hurting him, and he let out another low cry. Worriedly, his mother sent for more tea and honey but once he'd had two more cups he still felt parched. He stared off at the wall and thought about Granger in her white, scant pants that rose up over her thighs.

That kiss, that cracked, bloody mouth-on-mouth kiss, was the best one he'd had yet. In the days to come and the years to come, he'd think of it often: in the Room of Requirement some months later, on his wedding day with Astoria, every lonely night when he could not sleep and ended up in the library (he swore he could still see the bloody stains though they'd long been charmed away). He thought about the kiss when he caught a passing glance of devil-may-care curls whilst shopping with his son in Diagon Alley. And his heart leapt when seventeen years later he finally, finally, finally saw Hermione Granger on the platform at King's Cross.

He was confident she thought of him too because after all, no one forgets their first time.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
